


What is a Name?

by TheNovelArtist



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fake Names, Fluff, Identity Reveal, LadyNoir - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 13:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16975245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNovelArtist/pseuds/TheNovelArtist
Summary: It's far easier to fall for a name than an identity. It's a lesson Ladybug learns the hard way, but she isn't sure she regrets it.





	What is a Name?

**Author's Note:**

> Another story I'm finally transferring over from Fanfiction.net Wrote this around Christmas time last year. Enjoy.

“Please, Ladybug,” Chat begged. “I know you want your identity to stay secret. I just don’t know why.”

“For our safety,” Ladybug fired back, leaning on her practiced answer.

“And you don’t think we would be safer and stronger as a team to know who we are in real life?”

Ladybug cringed. She hated when Chat made hard points like that.

“How about just a name?”

Turning to face him, Ladybug quirked a questioning brow at him. “A name? Because _that_ isn’t telling.”

“Not really?” Chat offered, shrugging hopefully.

Rolling her eyes, Ladybug turned around again and started marching onwards.

“Think about it,” he said, coming up to her side. “Think of all the people in Paris. We cannot be the only people with those names.”

“Except you would probably search up every girl with my name and try to figure out which one I am.”

Considering the way Chat frowned, that was exactly what he was going to do.

Ladybug shook her head. “Dork.”

For the rest of patrol, Chat was quiet. In all reality, Ladybug hated shutting him down like that. He was her best friend, her partner. She didn’t want to keep him at a distance. She just… didn’t want things to change. They were already best friends who had a special kind of trust between them. One that didn’t depend on names or faces or identities. One that was strong despite the masks they wore.

Still… she really didn’t like hurting her partner…

“All right, Chat,” she said once patrol had ended and they were resting up in the bars of the Eiffel Tower. “I’ll play along. But with a slight change of rules.”

Chat perked up at this, his ears rising and eyes widening in a way that made him seem so innocently curious. “Name them.”

“I’ll tell you the first letter of my name, then you pick a name for me. And vice versa.”

She watched Chat’s expression shift from confused to intrigued to amused. “All right. My initials are AA.”

Ladybug frowned. “I said the letter of your first name, Chat.”

“Now you know a little more about me,” he smugly retorted.

She rolled her eyes, but then thought about it. “An ‘A’, hmm?” She bit her lip. “Anton.”

Chat quirked a brow. “Anton?”

Ladybug nodded. “Anton.”

His lips quirked up in amusement while his green eyes shined with mirth. “All right. Your turn.”

“M.”

“No last name, bugaboo?” he prodded, playfully pouting.

“Hyphenated names are too telling, so no.”

His eyes widened in shock, but then he grinned. Shyly, she smiled back at him, wondering if she should have given him that little tidbit at all. “So M hyphenated,” he said, letting the words roll of his tongue as if testing them. “Marie.”

“Marie?”

“Marie.”

She sighed. “Of course, you would name me after one of the _Aristocats._ It’s right up your alley.”

“But it’s a…” He paused, then let loose a wicked grin. “Did you just pun?”

Ladybug’s expression crumpled.

“You did!” Chat cackled. “And you didn’t even notice. Oh, I’m so proud of you, bugaboo.”

“Oh, stop it!” She kicked him. Not hard, just playfully.

This got him to calm but not by much. “But really,” he argued, “Marie is a classy name for a classy girl. It’s elegant, so it suits you. Besides…” His smile grew cheeky. “You never start fights, My Lady, but you do finish them.”

As stupid as it was, she grinned. “Stop it, you horrible cat.”

“Whatever you say, Marie.”

It was really odd, to hear yet another name that was now her own. She might live to regret it yet.

* * *

 

“Lovely night, Marie,” Chat said, using her name for the first time that night.

“Yes it is, Anton.”

It was strange, using those names. A week in, and they had already started using their names as a signal for the end of patrol. When it was just two friends hanging out and chatting the night away.

At two weeks, though, trouble began. Because names give the impression of a person. A person with a life beyond their masks. And as close as they were, tidbits began to slip.

“I love fashion.”

“I’m sick of it.”

The next night would be—

“I have the coolest scarf in my favorite color, blue.”

“I’m much more of a pink person.”

And the next—

“My family loves Saturday dinners. They’re extra special.”

“I wish I knew what that was like.”

And on and on they would go. Back and forth, dropping hint after hint about who they were. Because they weren’t superheroes in that moment; they were Anton and Marie: the best of friends. And best friends knew about each other.

It never once occurred to Ladybug that this was exactly what she was afraid of.

* * *

 

At seventeen, Ladybug was not as stupid or naïve as she was when she first got her miraculous. Nor was she the scatter-brained klutz that she was when she was in collegé. Becoming Ladybug had shaped that girl into someone level-headed and rational, focused and graceful. It had forced her to open her eyes, to see things in a different lighting, to tackle things she never thought she could.

It was by this growth that she was able to take Adrien off the perfect pedestal that she had put him on and see him as a friend that she wanted to be in a relationship with. The same growth had also allowed her to see her partner as an incredible person who was spectacular in his own right, yet one she knew she couldn’t have a relationship with. Because he was Chat Noir: her partner.

But Anton: her friend…

Ladybug stole a glance at the man sitting next to her, and she let her mind wander. Honestly, it was hard to miss how roguishly handsome he was with his wild blonde tresses and vivid green eyes and signature cattish grin. Furthermore, it was impossible to ignore how underneath all that skin-tight, black leather was a soft, squishy heart of gold.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Anton?”

The bewildering glance he gave her was enough to answer that question.

“I’ll take that as a no, as I should have guessed,” she smirked. “So, hypothetically, if we didn’t know each other, would there be another girl who you had your eye on?”

His mouth contorted into a crumpled line as he thought about it. “Maybe, there might be one girl.”

The tone of his voice conveyed to Ladybug just how small of a possibility that was.

“What about you?” he asked. “Is there a guy you have your eye on?”

She bit her lip. “Yeah, there is.”

She just didn’t know which one.

* * *

 

“You stupid cat!”

“Marie—”

“No!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare use my name.”

“Will you calm down?”

“I will not, you stupid…”

She regretted ever giving him a name. She regretted ever calling him Anton. This was her lesson, she supposed.

“Marie.”

“Quit calling me that.” She turned from him in order to hide the tears that were forming. Out of all the ways to regret, she would have thought that she would have been sick of him overusing her name…

“Why did I ever agree to that?” she snapped aloud, her anger pouring off her in waves. She never thought it would be an akuma that would have changed her mind. “Do you know how many times I nearly shouted your name in battle?”

Chat stayed silent.

“And then you leapt in front and took the hit for me. You were dying!”

Again, she was met with no response.

“And then you have the gall to call me Marie when I’m still trying to deal with the fact I nearly lost you because you knowingly take the hits for me, and _I can’t stand that_!”

Before her knees gave out, before she could collapse into a crying mess, Chat wrapped his arms around her from behind. She sank into him, letting him hold her up while tears began slipping from her eyes.

“Marie,” he said, calmly and quietly. “You are my partner, and that alone obligates me to protect you.”

“I never—”

“On my own accord,” he interrupted. “We are partners, equals, and determined to have each other’s back. And that means I’m going to take a hit for you every once in a while. Because you are my partner, and I am more than willing and to do so for you.” Then, his hold on her tightened and he lowered his head, his lips very near her ear. “But you are also my Marie, my closest friend. And it is because of that that I am _driven_ to protect you. Because I care for you. A lot.”

“And you don’t think I care for you?” Ladybug choked out.

“I know you do,” Chat replied calmly. “And that’s why I swear to protect you whenever possible. Because not many people care for me the way you do, so why would I give anything other than my best for you?”

Ladybug screwed her eyes shut against the tears and turned away from his face. But her body betray her and sank further into his arms. “I hate you, Anton.”

She could almost hear his smile. “I love you, too, Marie.”

* * *

 

They say hindsight is twenty-twenty. And Ladybug believed it. Looking back, there were two mistakes she made. The first one was allowing names between them. Because names took away the superhero mask. It made Chat human. It made him Anton. Someone Ladybug was allowed to have a crush on.

Her second mistake was simply another poor decision on top of the first one: she let that crush grow.

Yes, she still had a crush on Adrien. He was still an amazing young man, but it wasn’t him who she was meeting every night.

She felt his presence behind her, his head hover right above her shoulder. “Marie,” he purred out.

Her body betray her, shivering at his voice. Not that she was of the mind to resist, anyway. “Anton.”

He turned his face into the side of her head. “May I ask a question?” he whispered, his lips close to her ear.

Ladybug closed her eyes as she turned her head towards his. “And that is?”

“Would you ever consider me more than just a partner? More than just a friend?”

Her entire body froze while her heartrate sped up. “Why?” she asked breathlessly.

“Because I’m curious.”

“Lair.”

“Please, just humor me,” he begged.

Her breath caught in her lungs before she released a relenting sigh, turning away from him. “I don’t want to think about that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the answer scares me.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she far too easily surrendered against him. “How is it scary?”

“Do I have to bring up last month?” she asked, her hands crossing her waist to grab his hands. She turned her head fully into his so they were nearly nose to nose. “What if I lose you in battle?”

Anton squeezed her reassuringly. “Then we just have to make sure that we have each other’s back.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I just can’t lose you,” she whispered.

“You won’t.”

“But I’m not ready to take that chance.”

She felt him slump in defeat. Slowly, he unfurled his arms from her, and she immediately felt the chill of his absence. “I won’t give up, Marie.”

She desperately hoped he didn’t see her cringe because she knew far too well how much he meant those words.

* * *

 

It took two months, three weeks, and four days for him to wear her down. Her heart just couldn’t take it anymore. She was done. Fried. Over. And the fact that the name she dopily scribbled in her sketchbook—the one she wrote in loopy cursive surrounded by hearts when she was bored or blocked—had turned from “Adrien” to “Anton” proved it.

But saying that Ladybug had fallen for Chat Noir was too daunting for her to absorb. It was much more manageable on her poor heart to say that Marie had fallen for Anton. Because that’s truly what had happened.

A thump came from behind her, but she didn’t jump. She’d been expecting it. “Anton.”

“Marie.”

Heart pounding in nervousness, she turned to face him. At eighteen years old, he was every bit the handsome man she perpetually denied he ever was. She thought it strange and ironic how she, at fourteen years of age, had been ready to give her heart to Adrien without second thought. To marry him and have a family. Now, here she stood, a young woman nearly eighteen herself and scared to give her heart up at all. Reality, she belatedly realized, was much scarier than fantasy.

“You promised you would never give me up,” she started.

Slowly, he approached her. Taking her cheeks in his hands, he carefully raised her chin so they could stand toe-to-toe yet eye-to-eye. “A promise is meant to be kept.”

“But is this one you truly want to keep?”

His gaze flickered down to her lips, turning her mouth dry. Her heartbeat decided to pick up its pace as his green eyes stared intensely back into hers. “Yes.”

With that, he lowered his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered shut before they landed, and when they did, her heart was stolen. Gone, permanently. And she couldn’t even bring herself to care.

Her hands wrapped gently up over his neck while his hands moved to cradle her head. His touch was so gentle, so tender, she melted. Two, three, four times, his lips landed upon hers at different angles. A different kiss every time, but no one in particular thrilled her any more than any other. And when they pulled apart, their half-lidded gazes colliding, she realized that it was over. He was hers. And she was his.

“Please tell me you feel it, too.” Chat begged on a whisper.

Words lodged in her throat, the only thing she could do was nod.

“So if I asked you,” he continued, “to go steady with me, what would you say?”

“I can’t fathom anything else.”

It earned her another kiss.

* * *

 

It was exactly six weeks later that Ladybug knew she couldn’t deny it any more: she wanted to marry this man. She had spent the better part of their partnership pushing him away, only to fall hard and fast for him once she had a name that could roll easily off her lips in public. During their last sleepover, Alya had asked who the ‘Anton’ Marinette mumbled about in her sleep was. It was everything for Marinette to hold her tongue though she wanted to say “my future husband.”

Now, she anxiously looked forward to nightly patrols for the sole reason of the after. Once duty was over. Once Ladybug and Chat Noir were put away and Marie and Anton were free to make an appearance.

They were curled up in the bars of the Eiffel Tower. Oh, it was so impossibly tempting to drag Anton back home so they could snuggle on her bed under the warmth of her blankets. She didn’t even know why she didn’t, but even now, she didn’t want to move from her very comfortable spot wrapped in his arms.

She felt his hold tighten on her and his chin rest on her shoulder. She hummed happily.

“Can I ask a serious question, Marie?”

“You’ve never been afraid to ask them before.”

“This one is different,” he argued.

Curious, she turned her head slightly into his. “What is it?”

“You’re eighteen,” he said, “nearly out of school, correct?”

“That’s right,” she said.

“And you have plans laid out for the future?”

“Yes,” she said, suddenly growing nervous. “What’s this about?”

His hand then found hers, wrapping it up in a protective hold. “My question is if…” he started hesitantly, “if you would be ready… to become my wife on top of all that.”

Her lungs ceased to function as her brain slowly took in his words.

“I understand if the answer is no,” he quickly assured. “We can wait.”

She took her time to collect herself. It must have been too long because Anton tried to pull his hand away, not that she let him. “It’s not a no, Anton,” she answered.

“But it’s not a yes, either. And I understand that—”

“Just,” she interrupted. “Just give me some time, okay?” She tightened her hold on his hand. “Because I really want to say yes. To say that I’m ready. I can’t imagine life with anyone else. But… I just need time to process that fully. Okay?”

He relaxed, and only then did she realize how tense he had gotten. He then took her hand, raising it up to his lips to press a lingering kiss upon her knuckles. “Take all the time you need, Marie. We’re still young, but I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else.”

“I feel the same.” She pulled her hand from his only to tenderly cup his jaw. “I’ll try not to keep you waiting too long, Anton.”

He leaned into his touch. “I’ll be waiting patiently, sweetheart.”

She smiled, turning fully to press a kiss onto his cheek. He turned his head towards her, brushing noses together in the process. He stole a quick kiss from her before she could turn away, giggling in the process.

“There is one thing I am impatient to know, however.”

“And that is?”

He paused, taking a breath in preparation. “What sort of family do you want to have?”

It was a straight-forward question, one that was very reasonable. But in that moment, it truly solidified where everything was going. He was going to be her husband. She was going to start a family with him. He would be the father of her children. It may have shocked her at first, but the anxiety causing her heart to race slowly shifted from fearful to anticipative. She was ready to start the life with him.

“Three kids,” she told him.

“Three?” he asked, surprised.

Suddenly, she grew worried. “Is that bad?”

“NO!” he quickly amended. “No no no. Not at all. That… that sounds _wonderful._ To be part of a family like that…”

Her heart hurt at his tone. She wasn’t unaware of what Anton’s home life was like. She’d heard enough quips and tales to know he was an only child, left with a distant father. Home was cold, and family was non-existent. It had never crossed her mind that having such a family would mean so much to him. “I get to name them, though,” she said, partly teasing.

It snapped him out of his stupor. “What?” he breathed out, still dazed and overwhelmed.

“Emma, Hugo, and Louis.”

His breathing picked up. “Emma, Hugo, and Lo…” His voice trailed off, weak and full of wonder. He swallowed hard before he finished, “And Louis.”

“How does that sound, Anton?”

His gaze softened to the greatest degree. When he spoke, his voice was whispery, hinting at tears. “Could…” he began, struggling to get his words out. “Could we name our girl Emilie?”

_Their girl._  Her heart did flips. _Their_ girl. _Their_ baby. Together. She had to swallow hard. “Emilie?”

He nodded. “It was mother’s name.”

Her heart broke. “Yes,” she assured, cradling his cheeks. “Yes, of course. It’s a beautiful name. I love it.”

Lovesick was the only way to describe his expression as he melted into her touch. “I love you,” he said.

Her heart stopped for a beat before pounding so hard that it hurt. “I love you, too.”

Far from their first kiss, he’d never given her one that made her as happy and hopeful as he did right then.

* * *

 

It was an epiphany, a rather shallow one at that, to wake up one morning and realize that her name was not Marie. And his name wasn’t Anton. It nearly sent her crying. She held it together, however, because she needed to get to school lest she be late.

Surprisingly, she made it to class on time, plopping herself down in her seat just as the last bell rang. She pulled out her notes, ready to listen to her teacher’s lecture. Only to not hear a word. There were too many other things on her mind for her to even pretend to pay attention.

Her eyes settled in an absent daze downwards as she thought of Anton’s proposal. She had to force herself to stop when she felt tears forming because she had wanted to say yes to a man she only knew by a fake name.

When she snapped herself out of her trance, her eyes came to settle on Adrien’s notebook. One that was surprisingly empty for him. He was the kind that took a plethora of notes and kindly dished them out to his friends when they asked. Instead, there were a couple lines of notes, and far more little hearts.

Marinette watched him as a ladybug made its way into the doodles. Then the next line down, he wrote a name, one perfectly legible. Emilie.

It was both disappointing yet not to see the name. Adrien was taken, obviously. Completely smitten by some woman named Emilie. Last year, she would have cried. Now, she was happy for him to find someone who obviously made him so happy. It was almost comforting because she knew Adrien deserved it.

But then came another name under that. Hugo. Then a third appeared. Louis.

Marinette’s eyes widened. Why would those names…?

Marie. That was the name that appeared last. And as if that wasn’t enough, he added a Mrs. to the front and Agreste afterwards.

Marinette’s heart skipped a beat. Mrs. Marie Agreste. Mrs. Marie Agreste…

Her heart skipped another.

Suddenly, every talk she had ever had with Chat came flooding back to her. Initials AA. Sick of the fashion industry. Lonely home life.

How had she been so blind?

She watched as Adrien then circled her name, hard, several times, then run a heavy, black line through it. He set his pencil down, hanging his head.

It seemed he had come to the same conclusion she had.

Well, it was time to make things right.

* * *

 

It took her all day to work up the courage and plan her attack of how she was going to spring this on him. After all, she was basically going to announce that she, his friend he’d known throughout school, was the love of his life and the woman he’d proposed to. She was almost tempted to postpone it, to wait until patrol tomorrow, but when he mentioned he would be gone over the weekend, she knew she had to do it today.

She never really had a moment to pull him aside, though, because the second Nino and Alya left, Adrien’s car showed to pick him up.

“I’ll see you after the weekend, Marinette,” he said, waving his good-bye.

“Yeah,” she said, mentally panicking as she waved back. She was out of time. When he turned, it was a sudden, shocking moment of impulse that forced her to say the next words. “I’ll be waiting… Anton.”

She watched him freeze, and all the bravery Marinette had at that moment vanished. She turned on her heel and tried to resist the urge to run all the way home. She made her way towards the bakery at a steady clip, turning to look over her shoulder even though her cheeks were burning. Their eyes locked for only a second before Marinette faced forward again and begged her heart not to give out on her until she made it home.

* * *

 

After her after-school panic attack, she finally calmed down when she stuck her nose in her sketchbook and burned through pages.

It was what made the sudden _thump_ on her roof so shocking. She had been so in the zone that the sound had caused her to nearly fly from her chair. Then came an incessant tapping from her balcony door. Her heart raced, knowing there was only one person who could possibly be there.

She tossed the door open, coming eye to eye with her Anton.

“Marie,” he said, his eyes full of hope and wonder.

Her grin grew so wide, it was an answer itself. Still, she gave him undeniably clear answer. “Are you coming in, Anton?”

Her invitation was quickly accepted as he practically launched himself in, dropping his transformation in the process. When he stood back up, he was fully Adrien.

“I can’t believe I was so blind,” he said, rubbing his hands down his face. “M hyphenated. MD-C. Everything you told me. Every similarity, and I missed it.”

She gave him a pitiful look. “I know. You’re not the only one who was kicking themselves.”

“Yes, but… I always claimed to be in love with you. To be able to pick you out in a crowd. But I saw you every day and…” He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

Marinette approached him. “So did I.”

The stress on his features faded. He reached out, cradling her cheeks gently in his hands and pulling her close. She leaned in to his touch, reaching up to press foreheads together. “Marinette,” he said, his voice but a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m the one that should be sorry,” she responded. “For being so adamant on keeping our identities secret.”

“No, I knew why you did that. There’s no need to apologize.”

“And know that I didn’t spot you either, despite the fact you sat in front of me every day, despite the fact I claimed you were my best friend. So we can just say we’re even and that there’s nothing to apologize for.”

The way his grip tightened on her cheeks told her just how much that meant to him.

“What matters is that we found each other in the end, right?” she said.

He shook his head. “What matters is if we get to _keep_ each other in the end.”

Marinette’s heart pounded in her chest. “I very much hope that we do, Adrien.”

He shifted away from her, only so he could come back and capture her lips. She responded to every touch with a racing, anxious heart.

“I hope you know,” he said between kisses, “that while I will happily wait until you’re ready to marry, I’ve just become less patient.”

She giggled, unsure if it was because of his words or the kisses he peppered on her cheeks. “We can’t just jump in, or everyone will grow suspicious. I’m just glad we know each other, or it would have made this exceptionally harder.”

He cut her off with another kiss. “Then when I get back, I’m taking you out on an official date. We start making the truth obvious.”

“Truth?”

“That we’re inseparable and that I am going to marry you.”

She giggled again. “Then hurry back, okay? Because I’ve already determined I’m going to accept your proposal.”

The kiss he gave her after that left her weak in the knees like never before.

* * *

 

It was because of Alya that they were able to race their “public show of dating” as fast as they did. It started as an accident, with a very groggy Marinette letting out a few too many details on Saturday. By Sunday, Alya had told the world that Adrien Agreste, famous model, was in a secret relationship with aspiring fashion designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

And then proceeded to chew Marinette out for keeping it a secret for so long.

Monday rolled around, and the moment Adrien stepped out of his car, he raced to Marinette, engulfing her in a hug and stealing a kiss.

That was the first time Marinette appeared in the tabloids.

But that wasn’t the best part.

The day after, Adrien brought over a gossip rag. With a grin he opened it to the offending article. “Listen to this. ‘Is Adrien Agreste off the market? Sources have caught the model fervently kissing a mystery woman on Monday. The woman, identified as Marie Dupain-Cheng—‘”

“You’re making that up!” Marinette amusedly shouted.

“I’m not!” he said, passing over the open magazine.

Marinette snatched the magazine from him, bursting into laughter the second she caught her misspelled name.

“They got your name wrong, Anton,” Marinette teased once her laughter calmed. “Who is this ‘Adrien’.”

“I don’t know,” he retorted, “but I bet I could beat him in a duel.”

That sent them into peals of laughter yet again, the duo collapsing on the couch in near tears. It took them a while to calm down again.

“You know, Anton,” Marinette eventually said, her voice airy with the remains of laughter. “I bet you could.”

He grinned. “Would the winner get your heart? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve already won that.”

“Well,” Marinette said, heat warming her cheeks. “You never were a loser, Adrien. You just stole my heart from yourself.”

His eyes widened as he processed what she said. He blinked a couple times before breaking into a new round of chuckles. “Then I must be really charming to have stolen your heart twice.”

Despite her face heating up like an oven, she chuckled. “I have no comment.”

“Then you have no comment about me kissing you?” he playfully ventured, leaning forward to wrap an arm around her waist.

Marinette bit her lip shyly. “No,” she answered, her eyelids already lowering in anticipation. “Not at all.”


End file.
